Gloomy Sunday
by Igiveup
Summary: This is dedicated to one of my favorite authors, KCS. Holmes and Watson are both feeling a little depressed. Can they help each other out?


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This is dedicated to KCS, one of THE best writers on this site! I hope you enjoy this. :)

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Holmes sighed as he stared out the window at the rain. The dreary weather perfectly mirrored his mood at the moment. His flatmate and closest(make that only) friend Dr. Watson seemed to be in a dark mood himself. Understandable really, as this sort of weather argrivated the doctor's old war wounds. Also, having your companion be depressed certainly did not help cheer one up.

Certain emotions were contagious, Holmes knew. Especially negative ones. If you were to lock an angry person alone in a room with a happy person, you would come back to find two angry people. Same thing for the depressed. Thus, the fact that the usually cheerful doctor was himself in a mood came as no surprise.

Holmes was at least relieved that Watson had not made any effort to cheer him up. Though Holmes always appreciated the sentiment behind Watson's acts of kindness, there were times when he just wanted to be left alone. thankfully Watson seemed to have learned how to know when Holmes wanted comfort, and when it was better to just leave the flat for awhile.

Holmes did not always know _why_ he would fall into these black moods. It would be so easy to say, "Oh, it is the weather," or "Oh, it is a lack of cases," or anything else for that matter. In this case, it was none of the above. He had just successfully completed a highly challenging case; an ingenious matter involving a pair of twins and a pearl necklace. As for the weather, he had already been depressed long before the first rain drop fell.

A sudden rattle at the door jolted Holmes out of his thoughts. He looked up to see Watson holding the door open for Mrs. Hudson, who was carrying a tray in her hands.

"Whenever you're ready gentlemen," she said as she set it down on the table.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson," Holmes and Watson said in unison, which brought a smile to both their faces.

Watson sat down and lifted the lid off of the tray. "Ah, chicken noodle soup, my favourite!"

"Enjoy, my dear fellow," Holmes said as he turned his attention back to the window.

Watson studied the detective for a moment. It was growing darker outside, and he could see a ghostly reflection of Holmes' face in the glass. _He might feel better if he tried eating something,_ Watson thought. It often worked for him, at least. He certainly did not want Holmes fainting from hunger either.

"You are quite sure you don't want to join me?" he asked softly, not wanting to inadvertanly make things worse.

"No, no, you go on ahead, I will be all right." Holmes glanced back over his shoulder at Watson, giving the doctor a slight smile.

"Do not worry, my dear fellow. To use your poetic language, the sun will come out of the clouds eventually and all will be well once more."

Watson shakily returned the smile. Holmes did have a point. His moods were as changing and unpredictable as the weather. _Even more so than the weather,_ Watson thought wryly, since his war wounds at least gave him some warning about the weather. Still, Holmes' dark moods always did disappear eventually, and as he said, the sun would shine once again.

_I just wish the sun could come out a little sooner!_ It was so frustrating to see his closest friend in distress, and knowing there was nothing he could really do about it.

He tried to turn his attention back to his dinner. The soup bowl in front of him blurred, and it was hard to swallow around the lump in his throat.

_This too shall pass. just try to hold on until then._ Easier said then done.

"Really, Watson, I swear I will be all right. You don't have to worry about me."

Holmes always had been able to read Watson's thoughts as clearly as if they had been written on his face in bold ink. Now was no exception. Watson looked up to find Holmes studying him, the detective's eyes glittering like emeralds. For a long moment neither of them said anything. Finally Holmes broke the silence.

"Would you feel more at ease if I ate something?"

Watson nodded slightly. He did not want to force Holmes to eat if he really did not want to, but he could not lie either. Holmes would see right through it. He was reading Watson's moods again right now, and could clearly see Watson's conflicted feelings.

"Very well then," Holmes said softly, as he joined Watson at the table. Just before he began eating he glanced up at Watson and added with a faint trace of humour, "Now understand that I am only doing this for you. Is that clear?"

Watson smiled slightly and nodded. "Thank you."

Silence resumed once more, save for the clanking of the silverware. When they had finished, Holmes had to admit that he did feel slightly better than he had before. Watson certainly looked at bit more at ease.

After Mrs. Hudson had returned and cleared the table, Holmes picked his violin up off of the floor. He studied the instrument for a long while before glancing over at Watson. He had never asked permission before playing the violin before, but considering the circumstances...

"Of course you may!" Watson said when Holmes asked. "I should be delighted to hear it."

Holmes curled up in his chair, put the violin underneath his chin, and began to play. The music was sad and melancholy, but oh, so beautiful. For hours he played, losing track of time as he disappeared into the music. Even after he finally stopped, the notes seemed to linger in the air like a fine mist.

He glanced over at Watson, to find the doctor fast asleep in his chair. "Sweet dreams, my friend."

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**_the end. _**


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